The Primogen's Love
by NateSean
Summary: A Tremere Prince plans to kill the Princes of Vermont and San Francisco in one blow. Amanda, the disgraced and defeated former Tremere Primogen is given the chance to redeem herself. And Sean meets someone he hasn't seen in a long time...Same sex relation
1. Prologue: Shadows of Conspiracy

Here it is. That wasn't long now was it? This takes place almost exactly after The Vermont Primogen, and it's going to be a little harder to write since it's based in the week or so before Christmas. I was writing from experience as Christmas was approaching, and all the feelings I had before break were the source of my inspiration. So I'm sort of flying blind now, trying to guide the story from new thoughts and feelings.

On another note, I've been sort of combining my faded knowledge of V:TM with the canon of Kindred the Embrace. I've never played the RPG in my life, even though I have the Gangrel Handbook. But I have watched the series, and I loved it immensely. Which is why this story is primarily based on Kindred canon.

On the final note: Thank you to all who reviewed my last story, and I can't wait to hear your comments on this one. Check out my C2 community for updates and if anyone knows where I can post the link feel free to e-mail me.

Now…without further adieu…

Prologue

Shadows of Conspiracy

Ultraviolet beams rained on the floor, creating a barrier between the prisoner and her visitors. As the sea raged on the beach outside, cold spray blew through the barred windows of her cell, shocking her exposed skin. Her once blond hair was matted and filthy with soil and saltwater. Her clothes were ragged and torn by the rodents who dared to get close enough. Though an attendant stood outside feeding her real food every so often, her only source of blood was from the rodents and seagulls that she could get a hold of. Lazarus wanted her this way. Humble and desperate. Without her full complement of blood she could not use her powers against the attendants, nor could she simply dig her way out.

Her cell was an abandoned war bunker on an island owned by Lazarus. It was built during the War of 1812 and decommissioned a century and a half later when rumors of it being haunted frightened soldiers away. Few people in the mortal world knew it existed. As Amanda looked out her cell's window she could see a glimpse of the turbulent ocean out of one corner, but it was obscured by carefully planted bushes and large rocks.

Police boats ran patrols between the mainland and the Islands looking for trouble. The ferry's eight o'clock run to Peak Island was just barely cleared due to the conditions and fishermen were pulling in their nets and cages for the evening. In her idle and blood famished thoughts Amanda wondered what happened when children stuck on the mainland couldn't get to their parents for the entire evening. How sick with worry those parents must become, living on an island cut off from the rest of the country.

A seagull cawed as it landed on a stone outcropping just outside her single window. The bars were made of steel but some kind of enchantments prevented Amanda from breaking them. It stared out at the sea, oblivious to the hand reaching through the bars to get it. Amanda gripped the animal as gently as possible without letting it go and pulled it through the bars. It was a particularly large specimen and it flapped and whipped its head left and right trying to bite itself free. Amanda yanked it through the bars, spitting open its stomach and damaging the body as it squeezed through. The creature was horribly disfigured when it came through, and the gull ceased to struggle. Blood and feathers stained her hands and littered the floor as Amanda brought it to her lips. The blood went cold fast but she ignored luxury for the hunger. When the heart no longer beat she tore its flesh to get at the last drops. When she was satisfied she went to the "bars" of her cell and tossed the remains out as far as possible without touching the beams.

With nothing left to do Amanda sat in the driest corner of her cell and spent the hours doodling in the muddy ground. She drew two human figures, and a knife or a stake going through one of the figures. When she was finished she moved on to another drawing of two animals-wolves-fighting each other. She etched the Norse rune for "direction" in another spot and found herself uttering an incantation of vengeance. But she wanted to be the one who brought vengeance, not some spirit or other random occurrence.

As she drifted off to sleep dreams came to her. Lazarus was in most of them and in everyone he had a stake through his heart and his head was missing, but Amanda couldn't see who had killed him. She was in a dark room surrounded by a long circular table where obscure figures hid behind the shadows. She recognized the table as the one used by the Electorate of the New England Council.

At her feet was the boy. The slayer turned Gangrel, beheaded. And surrounding her were the bodies of Gangrel piled on top of one another covering every inch of the floor accept for the space she was standing in. It was only then that she realized that the council was made up entirely of Tremere, and that they were her followers. The bodies of Kindred from many different clans lay slumped on the floor surrounding the room, and as she walked outside into the cloudy daytime air she could see more bodies covering the streets and the city as far as the eye could see. Standing in various places, no more than six feet apart from one another were more Tremere, all at various stages of development all watching her. Even some of the well known Antidiluvians were watching her every move, never moving nor making a sound.

And just as soon as they were there, they were gone! In the blink of an eye the corpses and the Tremere vanished. Her dreamscape avatar never questioned this, having no logical function to work with, so she just stood there waiting for the next cue. Night fell in another blink and the city which housed the New England Council remained. Only wolves stood where the bodies of Kindred lay, and the bodies of Tremere scattered the grounds and the streets. They sniffed the air and watched Amanda, whose fear increased slightly.

A-single Kindred in human form stood out among the wolves. Dressed in black jeans and a long sleeved shirt, brown hair and brownish eyes, with sneakers. His eyes glowed as he stared Amanda down as he approached her.

"But I…I thought I killed you!" Amanda cried. Her voice was empty as she dropped to her knees.

"Reality bites." The boy replied. Then he pulled out a knife and swiped.

Amanda screamed as she awakened. Lazarus stood in front of the bars, waiting patiently while she composed herself.

"Bad dream?"

She glared silently. It would have been respectful of her to get to her feet, but she had enough of subtleties for one lifetime. Lazarus apparently chose to ignore it the small breach of protocol for more important matters.

"You can't imagine how hard I've fought to keep you alive." He said, running his hands along the bars as he paced. "You've disappointed many of your superiors."

"The pleasure is mine."

"Why do you dig yourself in deeper? I give you your own cell out of harm's way and you treat me with utter disrespect. Far younger initiates would love so lenient a punishment."

"Dealt by you I'm sure this is lenient." Amanda said, sarcastically. "If you had obeyed our laws I'd be ashes right now. That means you want something from me, and you don't want to risk the Motherhouse finding out."

Lazarus stopped his pacing and regarded her silently. His face was expressionless but his eyes revealed complex plans forming in the recesses of his thoughts.

"For your information, I am acting well within the Motherhouse laws. Unlike you I didn't waste my centuries on manipulation and power. My goals were always for the betterment of the Tremere Clan. And unlike you, I only kill renegades as I am charged to."

Amanda tried to find a retort, but failed.

"Incidentally, they find fault with my plan," Lazarus continued. "Because you see, it involves letting you go. You've breached protocol in ordering my journeyman to disobey me, you murdered a promising young initiate who was entrusted to your care…and your little power play caused the Vermont Tremere to be suspended from entry into Zarius' territory. But the likely hood of you surviving my plan gave my superiors incentive to consider it."

"I won't bother asking why I should cooperate, since I no doubt have no choice," Amanda said. "But curiosity begs me to ask, what do you plan to gain?"

"The territory you cost us." Lazarus stated bluntly. "Tremere and Gangrel were the two largest clans occupying Vermont. Now with Tremere out of the way Zarius will doubtless hand control of the state to a Gangrel Prince."

"The Gangrel could never be princes."

"Oh you think not? You'd be surprised what the Gangrel are capable of. That's the difference between you and I, I do not underestimate the enemy.

"Zarius has the most respected of the Toreador and the Ventrue clans on his council. Why would he blunder away the state on his guard dogs and pets?"

Lazarus held up his hand. "This is idle discussion. The point is the motherhouse wants Vermont, and its hope of reaching that goal is obliterated by you now, unless we kill Zarius."

"And how do I figure into this plan of yours?"

"You will do what you manipulated Benjamin into doing. You will take the attention from us as I make my move on Zarius."

Amanda was interested now. But she didn't show it. She wondered how much she could get out of him. "Doing the dirty work yourself for a change?"

"The Motherhouse doesn't want to risk its place in the Camarilla. If this plan fails they'll write us off and we'll most likely be killed. I've been permitted to bring a small troupe of journeymen, no older than a few centuries."

"Sounds like quite a lot to risk your position on. And how do you trust that I'll cooperate with you?"

"Now, now Amanda, lets not forget our positions," Lazarus said, dropping his formal tone and reverting to the exchange of wits that Amanda was using. "The motherhouse might have overlooked your actions had you rid us off that damned Kindred slayer. But in case you've forgotten you not only failed to kill the boy but it was him who banished us in the first place. Zarius places his faith in the boy; he moves to trust a former slayer over his trusted followers."

"Then why not discredit him in front of the Council?" Amanda demanded. "If you kill him he dies a martyr."

"I am not concerned with the council. The council has proven far too useless in Tremere matters. Even high members of the Motherhouse have discussed abandoning the Camarilla for the sake of preservation. There are some who believe that Tremere should be the dominating clan, and that we should mount a war against both the Camarilla and the Sabbat."

Amanda tried to conceal the hungry greed in her eyes. Lazarus was saying far more than he had intended and she knew it. Mentally she urged him to go on.

"The Nosferatu will be a small matter," Lazarus continued. "But in the same move I will have an opportunity to rid San Francisco of its Ventrue Prince as well."

Amanda nodded in understanding. "The Motherhouse would be eternally grateful for that. We've not been able to establish a presence in California since the earthquake of 1906."

"With the Final Death of Julian Luna we will force our way into California before the rest of the world knows what happened."

"Ambition Lazarus? That doesn't seem like the Tremere at all."

"Whether you agree with it or not, we expect your cooperation," Lazarus said, letting a tone of finality carry his words. "The council agrees not to punish you any further if you redeem yourself. Cause whatever disturbances your vindictive little mind can conjure up, give me the chance to slip in and kill off Zarius. Do this minor thing and gain us the Vermont territory. But if you truly want to earn yourself back into the good graces of the Motherhouse, and still have the power to carry out your ambitious plans, I suggest you make the extra effort and finish off the Kindred slayer."

Only two days and two nights had gone by since Amanda felt the knife plunge into her heart. But the time spent in a deathlike state, unable to move and unable to speak felt like an eternity. The images of the dark haired boy haunted her dreams. He was the boy who was no longer a boy, but would remain in the body of a teenager for eternity. The Gangrel childe embraced by James Reed in the last century.

_Not if I end him,_ a dark and seductive voice spoke to her inner being. _His skills as a Kindred slayer gave him an advantage that I did not anticipate. But this time I will not underestimate him._

There was an additional advantage to all of this. If only Amanda could get Lazarus in the same space as Zarius and Julian Luna, both her vengeance and her redemption could be complete. The Motherhouse would have to reward her with the position of Prince and she could choose Vermont, Maine, or San Francisco as her territory. The prospects were overwhelming and intoxicating, and Amanda had to fight back a grin that would make Lazarus suspicious.

"Very well," Amanda said in her most humble tone. "I will extend my full cooperation to the Maine chantry and to you, Prince Lazarus. In the name of the Tremere Motherhouse, I will do as I have been asked."

Lazarus nodded in approval. "I knew you would come around. But be warned, you will remain in Vermont the entire time I am there. You will keep in contact with me every twenty-four hours on the precise time I give you, or we will track you down and kill you without giving it a second thought."

Amanda bowed as Lazarus ordered the beams turned off.


	2. Returning to the World

Chapter 1: Returning to the World

Three nights hadn't shaken the feeling. The time between Wednesday and Sunday seemed to stretch on forever, making him feel as if every single minute was an hour. The nights were too long and the days were even longer as he had nothing to do then.

_I can't remember the last time I had something to do during the day_, he thought, staring out the window as he lay on his side on the tattered red couch. Cold rain beat against the windows, but a few rays of sun were piercing the clouds, signaling the shower's end. After a few more hours the puddles would become ice and someone would have to throw salt on the ground. It was close to noon. The hours passed and he remained on the couch. He didn't have the energy to get up and walk around and he hadn't eaten or drank anything besides blood so he didn't have to pee. Even a good shower was the last thing on his mind.

Three days worth of mail piled up in his private box downstairs, but he didn't care. It was mostly junk mail and the occasional letter from a friend traveling abroad. The phone rang. His answering machine was turned off. After the fifth ring the other end gave up. People came to his door. A pair of Jehovah's Witnesses, a Girl Scout with her mother trying to sell cookies, someone from the Relay For Life fund trying to collect donations. Sean could tell with his enhanced senses, but none of the callers were interesting enough to compel him to answer.

When the rain ended and the clouds were clearing up, a light wind picked up and howled against the windows. The rhythm lulled him back to sleep.

He stood there in the middle of a city, though he didn't know which. But all around him were the bodies of his clan, fallen and bloody as if there had been a battle here. Some were in the road or on the side walk; others were draped over vehicles or fallen against a building. In a sheath beneath the blazer he wore was a knife made from Spanish steel, with an emblem of a wolf carved from blue cobalt and embedded into the handle, where the blade met the soft brown leather. It was his twenty-first birthday present from James Reed, and when he pulled it from the sheath he found that it was as blood stained as the bodies surrounding him. His clothes were clean as if they had just been taken out of the laundry, and he didn't have any wounds or injuries on his body.

Neither confused nor one hundred percent aware of his situation, Sean stepped over the bodies of his fallen clansmen. There must have been more than two hundred Gangrel in the street alone, but he couldn't be certain. Some were beheaded; others had died of severe blood loss or other dismemberment. A few had been killed while in animal form and had not changed back. Though he couldn't really tell one way or the other, Sean was sure that all of them had been of his generation or younger.

Something was keeping him from looking up, but as he looked ahead he could see a sliver of the empty sky. But as he walked down the street he could see the bodies of other clans, also killed in any number of ways. One body was so badly dismembered that he could barely tell if it had been vampire or human much less what clan it belonged to.

As he walked he began to pick out familiar features in the buildings. The sea was close by and a few boats were moored to the docks. This city was familiar now because it had been the city where his fate was once decided by a council of Kindred. It was the city where James Reed now sat in the Council of New England.

As he began to recognize the city he began to also recognize the bodies of fallen Kindred. The faces of his fellow primogen stared up at him, wide-eyed with the shock of their deaths. He saw his fellow clan members and close friends dismembered and laying about. Terrance lying beside the girl who had died last week, Ryan McVeigh, Jeff Coulter, and Alex Sanchez spread out over one another. Ryan's hands still clutched his drumsticks and Jeff and Alex had their guitars close by. Their van with the Rabid Monks logo was on its side, crashed into a music store and burning slowly, while CD's and pamphlets littered the sidewalk and the streets surrounding them. In a police car, slumped over the wheel was Andrew, and in the passenger seat Aaron's head hung out the window. Both of his surviving childer had gaping holes in their hearts and their eyes, though certainly dead, watched him as he walked by. Trent, Kyle, Dennis, Benjamin, the initiates, and the Brujah guards all followed his every step all watching with gazes that conveyed longing, hatred, and envy.

Sean remembered a time in high school when his creative writing class took a trip to the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Massachusetts. One painting in particular stood out to him. It was a painting of a well dressed man with deep blue eyes, done by a German artist back in the mid 1700's. When Sean took two steps in any direction the eyes seemed to follow him. It sent chills down his spine then, and it was doing it now as he looked down at the bodies of his friends.

Suddenly he was no longer surrounded by bodies. Wolves stood where Kindred lay dead, and they all looked at him expectantly. A person in human form walked towards him.

Her robes seemed to float behind her and she was as clean and unsoiled as he was. Even though she walked with a purpose, she gazed about her, absorbing her surroundings as though she were equally confused about what was going on.

Once she was closer Sean recognized her as the one responsible for the deaths of more than forty Kindred, and countless more humans. He recognized her as the one he fought in the woods near Lake Paran, impaling her before she could kill one more. He recognized her as the one who ordered the death of one of his precious progeny. Anger welled within him as she came to a stop and noticed him finally. Her expression went from confusion to shock.

"But I…I thought I killed you!" Her voice was empty and she dropped to her knees.

"Reality bites." Sean replied, taking his knife out and swiping.

Before the blade found its mark the girl disappeared, and a man with short dark hair looked up at him. He failed to notice the man until the blade cut through flesh, and by that time it was too late. The Kindred who now stood in the place of the girl died instead of her. Sean looked down at the man who looked at him with look of desperate silence.

"I'm sorry," Sean said, dropping the knife. "If I'd seen you I wouldn't have-"

The man's body hit the ground before he could finish, and the head rolled onto the ground.

Sean shot up from the couch and looked around in a startled sweat. Desperately he looked about him, trying to get his bearings. Like a sailor in the water trying to stay a float Sean's eyes passed over his familiar surroundings, as if they would keep him anchored in reality. The marble counter, which separated the kitchen and living room, the refrigerator, the toaster, blender, and microwave, the stove and the sink, the Star Wars clock above the stove with the Deathstar hour hand on the one and the X-Wing minute hand on the twelve, the limited edition tri-dimensional chess set from his mortal life set up on a table by the window with two collapsible lounge chairs, one blue and one red. Posters of favorite bands and foreign countries decorated the walls and the concrete spaces between the windows, and glow in the dark stars lit up the ceiling.

Sean went into his bedroom where he kept an unofficial library on an old wooden shelf. Bram Stoker, Anne Rice, Poe, the complete Animorphs series. All the books of his mortal youth assured him that he was still in the world and that nothing had changed. On top of the shelf were picture frames containing memories of his friends. The Theater Arts class after their first production of the Diary of Anne Frank. Jeff Coulter and Ryan McVeigh were in the class that year, both still human. Mr. Foley and Mr. Peterson stood on opposite sides of the group smiling proudly, although that first night was hardly anything to be proud of.

Finally tired of being a permanent fixture in the house, Sean put some water on the stove and took a quick shower while it simmered to a boil. When he was washed up and dressed in clean clothes, he made himself a cup of hot chocolate in a thermos and flipped on his answering machine. He took out all the mail from his post box and tossed most of it in the recycling bin. Then, without a second thought, he reentered the world for the first time in three nights.


	3. The Welcoming Committee

Chapter 2: The Welcoming Committee

Mary took a quick glance around the waiting area. Even at this time of night Burlington International Airport was alive with activity. People rushed to get to their flights, families and friends waiting for their loved ones at the gates, security guards checking baggage and making frequent rounds throughout the airport. It wasn't as big or as flashy as LAX or O'Hare, but it was clean, efficient and safe.

The plane didn't arrive when it was scheduled and knowing that it had left the gate made Mary worry. Though the odds of something happening mid flight were statistically one in a thousand, there were other matters that worried her. At every five paces throughout the airport a Gangrel or a Brujah stood sentry, watching for signs of trouble. Near the gate where Mary waited were four more Ventrue armed with concealed weapons and reading newspapers, looking out the window, and generally trying to blend in with the mortal patrons.

Mary took out her cell phone and called Richard who was busy with the ski resort.

"Hi honey, it's me," She said.

"Hello Mary. Is Mr. Luna here yet?" There was a lot of background noise and Mary could tell Richard was in the lobby of the hotel. With mortal guests nearby it was important not to refer to one of their most distinguished guests by his title.

"No, and we've been waiting at this airport for hours. Is everything in top condition?"

"I've been cracking the whip at the ski lodge and the hotel all afternoon. Our supply orders were screwed up last week and we ended up short on toilet paper for the guests bathrooms. I just won't tolerate another mishap."

Mary chuckled as Richard paused to speak to someone. One of the Ventrue by the window signaled to Mary. The plane was approaching the terminal.

"Oh wonderful," she said. "Richard…Richard?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"The plane is here. Make sure the rooms are ready. We'll be there in a few hours."

"You know you can count on me."

Mary kissed her hand and rubbed it on the receiver before hanging up. She held up a sign marked Luna in large black letters. Ten minutes later passengers poured through the gate. People rushed to meet their loved ones and gush over them with hugs and kisses. Businessmen and women were in a hurry to get to the baggage claim and be off to their hotels.

A man and a woman stepped out of the gate last. The man was raven haired and wore black khakis and a casual brown sweater. His carry on bag was slung over his shoulder and a long overcoat was draped over his right arm. He wasn't overly muscular but his physique was impressive to Mary and her clan mates. Walking beside him was a woman with long blond hair and a slim figure. She wore little makeup and she carried herself like a person who could get whatever she asked for. As the man approached Mary she smiled warmly.

"Welcome to Vermont, Mr. Luna," she said lowering the sign. "My husband and I are eager to have you as our guests."

"Thank you." Julian replied. "We're expecting our skis and some luggage."

"Of course, let me show you to the baggage claim."

"Wow Julian," the woman said. "Do they roll out the red carpet for you wherever you go?"

Julian laughed and put his arm around her shoulder as they walked.

"Vermonters are very friendly people," he explained. "I haven't been out here since my boyhood days, but the hospitality's the same."

Mary lead her guests to the baggage claim and signaled to the waiting Ventrue to follow them at a distance. The Brujah and Gangrel changed positions every so often to avoid suspicion but remained vigilant. When the prince and the primogen were safely in the limo and on their way to the resort they cleared out.

A few hours before dawn, another plane arrived from San Francisco. A man left the terminal carrying nothing but the clothes on his back and made his way for the car rental. There was a short line but the clerk was having a difficult time explaining to a customer why his credit card wasn't going through.

The matter was settled finally and he handed his reserve number and credit card to the clerk.

"Hello Mister…Cash is it?"

"That's right."

"Sorry about the long wait."

"Don't worry about it." Cash replied sympathetically. "Guys like that are a dime a dozen."

"Would you like the extra insurance?"

"Yes please."

The clerk tapped a few more keys on the computer, and handed Cash a key and a complimentary roadmap.

"Your car is the burnt red Ford in C-23."

"Thanks a lot. You have a great morning."

"You too, sir."

Cash strode out the exit and headed for his car. He didn't care much for the color, but frankly so long as it ran he couldn't complain. Once he got inside he pulled out an address he pulled off the Internet. The resort was about six miles southeast of Manchester. Cash was thankful for the roadmap.

* * *

Sean's apartment was in a renovated office building in West Rutland. The town was a small New England town, with a few small corner stores and a Price Chopper. There were two elementary schools in town, and the older students were bussed to the middle and high schools in Rutland. A freight yard sat below the bridge between Rutland and West Rutland, and as Sean drove over it he could feel the bridge tremble with the sound of a freight train nearing the end of its run.

Traffic was light this morning. Just the typical daily commuters on their way to work, and a few early risers setting out for a brisk morning jog. The roads and the sidewalks were refreshingly free of ice, and the weather report stated it would be a clear day with a low wind chill factor.

_So long as it snows on Christmas Eve,_ Sean thought.

Sean drove around town for a few hours until the sky began losing its dark shade. Knowing he'd have to feed before the sun rose he found an empty spot at the WalMart plaza and parked. At the far end of the parking lot was a Price Chopper opened twenty-four hours. This early in the morning a few cashiers and the night clerks were the only people in the store. A security guard was also on duty tonight, a fellow Gangrel and Sean's lieutenant in the Rutland area. As Sean approached the store he could almost hear the surveillance cameras starting to "malfunction".

The cashier on duty was a woman in her sixties, and she eyed Sean suspiciously as he grabbed a basket from the rack. It was slightly suspicious seeing a fifteen year-old in the store this early, but it was a vacation day and it was almost six am. At the very least if he was picking up a few items he could explain away any suspicion by saying he was shopping for a sick relative.

A can of tuna, some Miracle Whip and mustard, a bottle of A1 sauce, a few boxes of cereal. He went to the meat department to get some beef, and also discovered some pretty good cuts of pork chops on sale.

_Sick relative, yeah right_, he thought. _I look like I'm making dinner for four._

One of the stock clerks clocked out on his last break and went into the customer restroom. Sean left his items by the door, knowing that no one would grab it this early in the morning, and went in behind the clerk. He left a few minutes later, refreshed, flushing one of the urinals behind him to keep suspicion to a minimum. Then he went to the checkout with his basket.

The cashier lightened up a bit as she ran the items through the scanner. Sean made small talk with the night shift manager who bagged them.

"You're out rather early," she said. "My kids are usually in bed till ten on days like this."

"Nah, I'm always up early," Sean replied. "Gotta catch that worm you know."

"Do you have an Advantedge card?" The cashier asked, ringing up the meat last.

"Not on me, no."

"Okay, that'll be thirty-one, fifty-four."

Sean pulled two twenties out of his wallet and handed them to the cashier. She gave him his change and he wished them Merry Christmas.

The sun was just barely up over the horizon and the parking lot was bathed in a bright gold light. A few seagulls flew over the parking lot, landing every so often to pick up a piece of bagel or some other food. Sean put his groceries in the back seat and drove back to his apartment.

He wished his mother could see him now, living on his own, paying the rent, and buying his own groceries. It was amazing how such a mundane task could bring someone back to the human world. It amazed him even more how much Sean needed to be here at this time. Sure, he still needed the blood, and eventually he would need to return to his duties as primogen. But for now he was just as human as the rest of this city. Friends and family didn't die in the mortal world. They graduated high school, went off to college, got high paying jobs, and raised families. Some of them became famous and others were the average Dick and Janes.

_Pfft,_ Sean thought. _If mortals have it easier than Kindred I have a third arm. _

Back in December of 2000 a trailer fire that took the lives of a well respected family. Though the fire could have happened to anyone, it _was_ a result of human error, something Kindred were just as capable of after the Embrace as they were before it.

Sean sighed. Kyle was embraced the following month after Sean convinced James Reed of his usefulness to the Gangrel. January was going to be hard to get through.


	4. Jason

Chapter 4: Jason

Sean returned to Bennington to meet up with Andrew. Even though he was on vacation he felt it was a good idea to keep tabs on his clan. He was still the primogen after all, and the idea that the Gangrel might need him kept him from going back to a period of self induced languor.

Andrew was waiting for him at Carmody's, a privately owned restaurant specializing in Irish cuisine, on Main Street. Carmody's had been in service for seven years now, and it stood next to the Photographer's Eye and the Pea Pod. Andrew sat at the table where a wall decoration sporting Murphy's Law hung. It was a slow evening so Sean didn't have to worry about leaking sensitive information. Andrew looked up and waved him over.

"How have you been?" He asked as Sean sat down.

"Tired, quiet, angry, depressed," Sean replied, not looking directly at his childe. "I didn't leave the house until this morning. You?"

"Little of the same. Kyle and I weren't really that close, but…"

An unofficial period of silence fell over them. It was the same period of silence that fell over people who weren't just mourning, but mourning together and happy enough that there were other people to be grieve with that they were content to be silent for a little while longer.

It wasn't until the waitress came to take their orders that they spoke again.

"Well, being interim primogen certainly isn't as boring as I thought it'd be," Andrew said, keeping a low voice. "I had fifty complaints over territory state wide, clear out an Anarch nest in an abandoned factory, and the requests for embraces are overwhelming. If I let too many get embraced we push the limit of Kindred, yet we have the free embrace until January."

Sean sat back and thought. It was good to solve problems again. "Tell you what, we'll set the limit at twenty for the whole clan. Pick out the first fifty requests and single out twenty good ones. As time goes on we'll allow others to be embraced, but that'll depend on the Prince's judgment."

"All right," Andrew said, relieved to not have to think about it any longer. "What about the territorial complaints. I've got a small group of Gangrel up near the Canadian border who are fighting with a group of werewolves. No one's been killed yet, but apparently the werewolves are killing too many deer for food and not allowing the vampires to feed on people in their town."

"They'll have to figure something out on their own," Sean said instantly. "We have an understanding with the lycans and I'm not about to jeopardize that. They have as much right to live in this state as we do. If these Gangrel can't come to an understanding they'll just have to move on."

"Okay. What about the abandoned factories? It seems like Caitiff and Anarchs come through here way too often and those factories and other unused buildings are big breeding grounds for their kind."

Sean dwelled on this one for a second. He considered all the possible scenarios, remembering his past dealings with the clanless ones. "Has Zarius said anything about the matter?"

"Only that he wants the primogen to figure it out. Mary is the only one interested in speaking to me and the others kinda just brush me off."

"All right, here's an idea," Sean said. "Talk to Mary. Have her clan buy up as many of the old factories as possible. We can go through each one and see what buildings need to be destroyed and what ones can be renovated, and we'll turn the ones that can be renovated into affordable housing. It helps the homeless problem here in Vermont and the added security around the area will keep Caitiff at bay."

Andrew thought about it for a second and decided it was a good idea. He was glad to get it all out of the way finally. The waitress came back with their drinks and informed them that their lunch would be out shortly.

"So how's life on the force?" Sean asked, shifting the focus to conventional matters. "Is the town of Bennington giving you a hard time?"

"Actually the normal work is a breeze by comparison. DUI's, possession charges, speeding tickets, it all goes with the territory. They asked me to teach a gun safety course at the high school."

"Ah, I remember those. You want to prevent school shootings but they teach kids to use guns anyway."

"It's only for hunting. Rifles and bows and things like that. I took it once when I was a freshman, remember?"

They talked about their days in high school. How Sam Becker always threw a fit when he lost in Quake 3, the copy cat bomb threat, the time someone let stink bombs off in the Career Development Center. Sean was a year ahead of Andrew, and he remembered quitting the chess club his freshman year because the other members were getting too snotty. Andrew talked about the girlfriend he took to see The Phantom Menace and how he broke up with her that same year.

When the food arrived they were in a much happier mood than they were the day before. Sean was even able to talk about the first time he and Trent had a class together without choking up. It was the year Sean had been embraced, and by the time the school year was well underway he was no longer the sworn enemy of the Kindred.

Trent was with him in Model United Nations and he was chosen to represent China. Sean represented Afghanistan, and they both sat on the Security Council. They worked together to improve their bills, helping each other with research and providing feedback when it was needed. Trent's bill addressed the fighting between India and Pakistan over Kashmir, and it was so long that Sean had to read the last operative clauses when they presented it to the Security Council. Trent earned an award for the Best delegate and Best bill.

"Did you see his cap at graduation?" Sean asked, munching on the Irish potato chips.

Andrew swallowed his food and said, "Nah, I get held back a year remember?"

"Well Trent had built this paper castle on the top of his cap. It was cute but it didn't go very high when he threw it up."

"It's too bad you didn't get held back year," Andrew commented. "You had more friends in the class of '02 than in your own class."

Sean shook his head.

"Nah, I'm glad I graduated the year I was meant to. For one thing I think people were getting suspicious that I wasn't aging much. Plus I dealt with Mount Anthony for long enough that I was ready to get the hell out and not look back. The hardest part was abandoning my family, making them forget I ever existed so they couldn't be hurt to get to me."

"You could have gone to Maine with James Reed."

"I'd have been a fish out of water. No, I don't regret staying here and I don't regret a minute I spent being what I am. I just wish I could have seen ahead before bringing you guys into this. If I had known embracing you and Kyle would mean the possibility that you could get killed, I might never have bothered."

Andrew shrugged. "I don't regret it. Kyle didn't regret it and I know Trent, Jeff, Ryan and Alex didn't regret it when they were embraced by their clans. Okay, yeah, I don't think I ever want to be a primogen ever in my unlife, but for the most part I enjoy the perks. Being able to turn into a wolf or a bat is possibly the coolest part about being a Gangrel. And do you know how much crime we're able to stop with our abilities that a human cop couldn't do with his own limited resources?"

"You handle the bad element nicely," Sean admitted. "But for what it's worth, you'd make an excellent primogen."

Sean went for a walk after lunch. He strolled down Main Street, absorbing the lights and the sounds of the town. Traffic was picking up again as it got closer and closer to Christmas. In the window displays stores advertised holiday sales and discounts. It started to get a little colder as pedestrians rushed to finish their errands. The owner of The Bennington Bookshop was sweeping the sidewalk just outside his shop. Sean walked in and looked at the titles in the New Releases.

A book caught his eye and he picked it up from the shelves. It was a debut novel by a new author. Sean read the cover of the book and skimmed the first few chapters. It seemed interesting enough and he carried it with him as he walked down the aisles.

"Hey, I know you," someone said.

Sean looked up and saw an old friend of his from the high school. He'd grown a few inches last year and from the traces of yellow in his roots it was clear that he still bleached his hair.

"Jason?"

"Yeah, and you're Sean," Jason said, smiling. "I haven't seen you since high school."

"I've been traveling a lot. How have you been?"

"Good I guess. I just got back from a trip to Egypt."

"Wow," Sean said, clapping Jason on the shoulder and drawing him into a brief hug. "What are you doing tonight? We need to catch up."

Jason shrugged.

"Nothing really, but I have to be home before dark. It's a long walk back to Shaftsburry."

"I can give you a ride. I've got a car now."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I got it a few years ago. Come on, I'll buy you some coffee."

Sean paid for his book and led Jason to the bank parking lot where he left his car.

From the roof of the bank two hawks watched him. They exchanged silent glances as the boys got into the car. The first one jerked its head back out towards the parking lot, and the second one flew away with barely a sound.


	5. The Prince of San Francisco

Chapter 4: The Prince of San Francisco

Caitlin was still asleep when Julian finally awakened. A warm fire roared from the bedroom fireplace, and the flames illuminated her skin and hair. For the longest time Julian remained still, tracing the curves of her face with his finger and gently moving strands of hair from her eyes. He sat up slowly so as not to wake her and pulled on his robe on.

There was a small terrace outside the bedroom and it had a beautiful view of the mountain. He heard the sound of the titanium cables whining under the strain of the lifts carrying skiers to the top. In the distance a few skiers could be seen swinging left and right, missing trees and taking death defying leaps off of the rants.

A teenage girl in a bright orange coat snowboarded on the amateur trail, which ran past the hotel. She glided down the trail gracefully at first, and hit a jump she wasn't prepared for. She lost her board and rolled to a stop. Without a second thought she climbed to her feet, brushed her self off, grabbed the snowboard and climbed back to the starting flag. Julian was impressed by her dedication.

He took a shower and got dressed in the living room. It was nice to throw off the long coats and the business suits in exchange for wool sweaters and thermal pants. Caitlin was still resting, so he jotted a note telling her he'd be at the lodge.

The lobby was busy but it still had the same warm, homelike feel that tourists came to expect from Vermont resort hotels. There was a nice warm carpet with a lovely flower pattern, a fireplace with arm chairs and a sofa along with a full continental breakfast, and the front desk was positioned next to the fire place. There was a pool room with a sauna and Jacuzzi, a dining room, and a little shop selling memorabilia and souvenirs. Julian's eyes fell upon an old friend who was speaking with a chef about the lunch and dinner for the evening. He looked up.

"Julian!"

"Richard!"

The men embraced briefly and stepped back to examine one another. Richard was a few inches shorter than Julian, with light brown hair and brownish eyes. He was dressed in much the same style of clothing that Julian wore during the night, black blazer and dress pants with black patent leather shoes.

"My God, Julian," Richard said happily. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Nor you my friend," Julian replied, grinning from the irony. "Although it seems you've exchanged the life of risk and danger for the life of business."

"Business has its risks too," Richard countered, looking out at his customers and employees. "Ever since Mary and I exchanged vows I've had to slow down a bit more than I'd like. But she's worth the patience."

"I know what you mean."

"Speaking of which, Mary tells me you've met someone new?"

Julian nodded. "Caitlin. She's the chief editor of the San Francisco Times. We've been dating for a few years now."

Richard was about to say more, when a bellhop cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

The boy apologized to Julian, before speaking to Richard. "There's something you need to look at on the second floor. It's pretty serious."

"I'll be right up, thank you." Richard sighed and turned to Julian. "I'm sorry, but I have to attend to this…"

Julian smiled sympathetically.

"Would you care to meet for drinks tonight in my personal suite?"

"I'd be happy to. See you tonight Richard."

A sidewalk ran along the parking lot, between the hotel and the ski lodge. Julian took a stroll, enjoying the brisk air off the mountain. The air was fresh and fragrant with the smell of snow and pine trees and he found himself taking a deep breath, even though it was pointless.

The lodge was even cozier than the hotel lobby, if a little more busy. There was a larger fireplace in a small dining area where people munched on fast food and sipped tea, coffee, or hot cocoa. There was a small store for renting and selling ski-equipment and winter clothes. Ski instructors stood in various places drilling the tourists on the importance of safety.

A wide set of stairs lead to a loading platform just outside the lodge, where skiers could catch one of the cabins riding up to the top of the mountains. The cabins were small and reminded Julian of the cable cars that held tours of the valleys in New Mexico. Here in the bitter cold this was a much better idea than the rickety metal seats other ski resorts used.

Kindred patrons and employees noticed Julian and gave their signs of reverence without being too formal. They treated him with as much outward respect as they would treat any other guest, but he recognized the meaning in their curt nods and responded accordingly.

Julian ordered a cup of coffee black. It wasn't his usual poison. It was possible that he was the only successful businessman in the world who didn't get by on five cup of Columbia's legal narcotic. But among the human patrons it would look odd if he simply walked around aimlessly and he didn't want to raise suspicions among them. He took his coffee to a table by the windows and watched the lifts and the skiers.

Even in the daylight his preternatural sight could spot the expert skiers near the peek. Again it was amazing to see their courage and their utter abandon as they flew down the mountain. Though many of the skiers were in deed experts their hearts were no doubt pounding louder than the sound of a thousand bombs exploding. It never ceased to amaze him how such frail creatures with such a limited lifespan were willing to risk it all for the pure thrill.

Julian was ready to do some skiing. He finished his coffee and returned to the lodge, hoping that Caitlin was also ready.


	6. Distractions

Chapter 5: Distractions

These were familiar grounds to her. Only a week ago this was her domain, but it felt like a century or more had gone by since the knife went into her heart. Like a blanket of mist in the morning after a heavy rain the essence of the Tremere clan was still strong in parts of this town. The Gangrel took over the factory where her chantry once resided. Now it was being turned into a haven for travelers who needed a place to stay during the daylight ours. Sort of a safe house for Gangrel and other refuse of Kindred society.

At first she thought of setting fire to the building. It was a century old and even with some of the new refurbishments required by OSHA the building could easily be destroyed. But doing something that drastic would be overkill, and Zarius would definitely suspect the Tremere. No, a direct attack on any Gangrel would be too obvious, and she needed to be more subtle.

Amanda flew towards the high school where Eric Peterson taught theater arts. It was close to midnight and the grounds were deserted accept for a few janitors working the nightshift. She flew low and landed in the parking lot near the vocational center. She changed to human form and approached a man who was busy salting the walkway into one of the rear entrances. The kill was fast and easy and she drained every last drop of life from his body. She left the body where it fell and took to the air again.

She went to a convenient store on the corner of Main Street and South Stream Road. It was a mom and pop store that had been around since the 1920's. Every family that lived in the town of Bennington for longer than four generations knew this store for its butchers and its produce. The butchers were on the payroll of the Ventrue to provide fresh pig and cow's blood with no questions asked, and in return. Amanda landed behind the building, changing shape and looking around her to make sure no one had seen.

Quickly she broke in through the back. She found the thermostat that controlled the meat locker and smashed it. She did the same with the dairy cooler and the freezer full of ice cream and frozen food in the store. By morning at least a quarter of the store's stock would be spoiled and ruined. She smashed everything breakable, the cash register, the eggs, and anything that came in a glass bottle. She destroyed the bread and spilled the animal blood over all of the fruit and vegetables in one of the open display coolers. Police sirens howled in the distance. Someone heard the commotion, which was good. Lazarus wanted his distraction, and one dead janitor and a vandalized convenient store would definitely distract the Kindred here.

"The store can be easily restocked," Mary said at the conclave meeting. "Salem's has been there for longer than I have. I'm happy that no one was hurt."

"As am I," Zarius replied. "But was this Kindred or human hand that laid destruction to this building? Salem's supplied the Ventrue with blood, did they not?"

"We're still investigating the matter," Andrew answered. "The owners of the store had no enemies here. Friends, family, and even first time customers always loved that store. Then there's the fact that no money was actually stolen."

"Definitely Kindred then," It was Ivan, the newly elected Assamite primogen who spoke. "No human does that kind of damage to a store on principal."

"That would certainly remain consistent with the murder outside the high school last night," Edgar chimed in. His voice was deep and shrill, reminding Andrew of the Crypt Keeper. "Are there any past impressions of the area?"

"Not yet," Andrew replied, knowing that the Tzcimsce wasn't exactly asking him. "Some of the older Gangrel are looking into that now. I'm not powerful enough to see-"

"That's what we get for having a child in the big boy's chair," Peterson muttered.

"Excuse me," Mary said. "That was inappropriate."

"Agreed," Zarius said, warningly. "Andrew, I trust you and the Gangrel are taking every step needed. But we'll need everyone's resources to pull through here. Mary, Christopher, and Bastian, see that the city is secure tonight. Frequent patrols, and protect the homes of the shop owners as well. Eric and Andrew, I want every Gangrel and Toreador protecting the schools and students from harm. I will send word to all princes that Education Passes will be temporarily banned, to prevent their own vassals from harm while they are learning. Christopher, your Lasombra will use whatever contacts you have to discover whether or not this is the work of Sabbat. With Christmas Break I trust most students will be home for the next month, so that should give us plenty of time to bring this under control."

"What about tourists?" Mary asked. "Particularly Prince Julian."

"The Gangrel and Ventrue will remain there protect the resort and its tourists. Also, Ivan, I will ask you and your clan to do the same. I imagine young Dennis will appreciate the chance to spend Christmas with his friend."

"Gladly, my Prince," Ivan said with a nod. "We will give our lives to protect the prince if needs be."

"Let us hope it won't come to that. Dismissed."

Sean met up with Jason the following day. He spent three hours on the phone asking the prince if he was sure he wasn't needed.

"I'm certain Sean," Zarius said. He didn't seem sure whether or not to be annoyed or amused. "The Gangrel are doing fine under Andrews guidance and the matters at hand are minor compared to last week."

"But it sounds like this is something out of his league." Sean protested. "First the body at the high school, then the vandalism at Salem's? Someone's sending us a message and I don't like it."

"Don't worry about that any longer. Enjoy your vacation. If the situation rises I will personally call you back. Consider it my Christmas gift."

Sean smiled. "Thank you, my Prince."

And with nothing else to do, Sean called Jason and took him out to lunch at a diner in Troy, New York.

"What can I order?" Jason asked, looking at the menu.

"Anything you can eat," Sean said. "I'm having the lamb myself. I haven't eaten here in a long time."

The waitress came to take their orders.

"I heard about Trent McCarthy the other day," Jason said.

"Yeah. I was at his funeral," Sean said. "He died from a car crash in Pownal."

"Didn't you used to hang out with him?"

"Quite a bit actually. He was my best friend senior year and we kept in contact during college."

"I haven't gone to college yet." Jason said, with a heavy sigh. He fiddled with the straw in his soda, stirring the soda idly. "It's just not for me yet."

"What are you up to then?"

"I work at MAC molding. Pays 9.50 an hour."

"Not bad. That's the hanger factory isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Gosh, I hear they have a high turnover rate. I could never work there."

"Where do you work?"

"I'm actually a security guard at SVC," Sean said, being half truthful. "I'm doing that to work off my tuition and then I'll probably go on to UVM for my masters' degree."

"What do you have now?"

"Just a bachelor's degree in Psychology. Not much, I know."

"That's cool though. I mean, that's better than just a high school diploma."

Sean took another sip of soda.

"So, how's your mother doing?"

Jason sighed.

"Not too well. She's still working as a substitute teacher, but her health hasn't been that great. Her heart's been giving her problems and she has another foster kid to worry about."

Sean was surprised. Jason was adopted himself, and he was one of six kids who were adopted by his mother Elaine. She never had any biological children of her own. But after thirty years of teaching and raising the children of other families, it didn't surprise Sean that she was beginning to wind down.

"How old is this kid?" He asked.

"She's twelve," Jason answered. "And she doesn't act like it. She clings to my mom all day, she doesn't eat unless you watch her, and she has to be reminded to take a shower and everything. I'm just afraid that my mom's going to keel over suddenly."

"Sounds pretty stressful," Sean said, sympathetically. "Have you been out of the house much lately?"

"Oh yeah, I get out every once in a while. Plus I get a couple weeks of vacation off from the plant."

Sean fiddled with the straw for a few seconds. A thought occurred to him, but he wondered if it was a good idea. It'd be very risky and with problems on the rise all he'd need was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He couldn't help but feel like the problems in Bennington were only the beginning…and after his dream…he'd have to talk to Zarius. But at least there was skiing.

"Do you have any plans for next week?"

"Not really. Just the usual Christmas stuff. Molly's going to her mother's home until after New Years so it'll give my mom a break."

"Do you like to ski?"

"No, but I like to snowboard."

"That works too. I've got a pass at this ski resort, and I can take a friend if I want to. We could stay at the lodge all week and just hang out."

Jason's eyes lit up.

"That'd be sweet. But what about my mother? She'll be all alone."

Sean was hesitant. Jason might not have noticed anything yet, but Elaine would certainly say something if she saw her son's friend, who hadn't aged since high school. But he wanted Jason to have a good time this year. "Well you wouldn't have to spend all week up there. I'd suggest bringing her along, but I only have a room reserved for myself and a friend at the lodge, and this place gets booked solid through winter."

Jason said he'd think about it. But from the look in his eye, Sean knew he was thinking about what to pack.


End file.
